Up Against It
by ALC Punk
Summary: AU of Abyss. What if the ending hadn't occurred precisely the same? Pairing Warning: Sam&Jack, Jack&Sara.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: PG13. Violence, language.  
Setting: Abyss, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Mirror Universe.  
Pairings referenced: Sam/Jack, Sara/Jack Archive: Yes, whatever.  
Notes: Hit me while walking to work on Tuesday. Three-fourths of this was actually written there until A came by and told me not to type (even when I have nothing else to do... sigh. Hate my job). The rest was written that night, and then edited tonight because I needed the distance (and time to plot out what else is going on). The title and chapter titles are ENTIRELY stolen from the Pet Shop Boys' song of the same name which is a NICE song. Sigh. Damn them.

Up Against It Chapter 1: News In This City by Ana Lyssie Cotton

She can hear the whispers, sometimes. When they don't know she's just around the corner. It doesn't hold the full attention of on-base gossip, of course. There are other people who are much more talked about. But she does hear them. They call her the Ice Goddess, tribute to a woman who hasn't even grieved over the man she served under for six years.

I saw the body, she wants to tell them, but doesn't.

They wouldn't understand this insane need for control. And it is insane. Daniel tells her that, sometimes.

"You gotta let loose, Sam."

But he's just as busy dealing with his grief over Jack as she is, and so he can only sometimes help her at night.

Sam told Jonas that, once.

"Dr. Jackson's dead, Major Carter."

Of course he is. And so is Colonel Jack O'Neill. She just nods, though. And doesn't miss the look Jonas shares with Teal'c. When Mackenzie attempts to get her thrown into a psych program so she can be properly evaluated, they stand by her.

General Hammond takes her calm, collected arguments at face value, and doesn't press.

And during the day, she is everything they believe her to be. She deals with her experiments, she discusses statistics and tactics with anyone and everyone. She smiles (maybe not as broadly, and maybe it doesn't always reach her eyes) at the people she passes. She even remembers to take lunch in the mess hall (that should have been their first clue), but she never eats jell-o anymore.

It's at night, that she stops.

At night, when Daniel can be there to comfort her (even if he can't touch her), to talk her through this pain.

Not that he really understands, although they both share guilt.

It's not just the guilt, of course. It's the emotions suppressed. The 'feelings'. The "I would rather die than lose Carter." statement that she has never been able to forget as much as she might want to. Two years. Two years of knowing and completely blowing away any possibility of deeper feelings between her and him. Except for a few notable occasions.

Always 'sir' and 'colonel', never 'Jack'. Because (and she's not afraid to admit it, now) she was too fucking frightened of what it could mean if she reached out and grabbed hold of something so nebulous as love.

Especially when it could so easily have been nothing more than a crush compounded by hero worship.

Jonas and Teal'c close ranks with her again when she starts insisting that SG-1 return to active duty. Hammond offers a compromise, and she spends two sessions with Mackenzie lying so effectively even he believes her heart-felt tears over the man she knew as Colonel Jack O'Neill.

The effort costs her, though, and Daniel has to listen to her rant in language that would make a sailor blush (memories and naquadah aren't the only thing Jolinar left her).

Mid-rant, she stops, turns. "Tell me how he died."

"Which time?" Daniel is apparently over babying her.

"All of them."

It takes the rest of the night, and in the morning, she tries not to show how tired she is at work. And succeeds, mostly. Only Teal'c notices, but Sam has always known that Teal'c notices everything.

Hammond gives them clearance to start on active duty again (going off world), with the proviso that they get a fourth.

They end up picking a bright young Captain by the name of Alex Summers. He's eager and can give Daniel a run for his money when talking about geology (if Daniel were talking artefacts). Hammond lets her know that the joint chiefs are pushing her promotion, seems they want only Colonels leading SG-1.

The first day is difficult, until they adjoin to the mess hall. Carter sits down at the table with the three men, and eyes their piled trays. "I feel," she remarks dryly, "As if I should go on a diet just looking at you three."

Jonas and the captain exchange amused smirks, and Teal'c half-smiles. And it's suddenly okay to have this new interloper with them.

At the end of the week, they've trained the kid as much as possible, and they set out on a fairly easy mission.

The mission is as simple as they'd thought it would be, and Sam Carter spends most of it feeling very old while Jonas and Summers geek about all sorts of thing (including the weather channel). They return in perfect spirits, and Sam lets the General know (with a sarcasm that would have done Colonel O'Neill proud) that the kid seems to be surviving life here at the SGC just fine.

"Where is Ba'al?" She asks Daniel that night.

She is seeing less and less of him, and she knows he'll be leaving her soon. That's all right, she's got the whole being left behind thing down pat, by now. Her father, her mother, her brother, Daniel... And now Colonel O'Neill. Sam figures she's an artist when it comes to not letting it hurt.

He is gone for a week, during which she continues to prove that SG-1 is whole and ready to go. She also does a little hacking into the program which spits out its weekly gate co-ordinates, and checks for ones that lead to planets they know (or there are rumors) Ba'al occupies.

It doesn't escape General Hammond's notice that she is so calm and cheerful again. With just a little sarcasm here and there that reminds people of who her commanding officer was.

There are rumors going around -- from those with a more romantical bent -- that she is on happy pills, because she has lost the love of her life. A lot of it contains stupid romance novel crap that she hopes never to have associated with her again. Someday.

Janet tries to call her on the not grieving, but she tells her to butt out. Even Cassie can't break her out of hanging on to her control.

Sometimes, she wishes it really were drugs.

Eventually, Daniel returns. He looks tired, now, and Sam wonders how long he can continue to hide his presence and the use of his powers to keep her together. Or maybe she's keeping him together.

"You regret making him take the symbiote."

"No."

It wasn't even much of a lie.

"Sam--"

"Don't."

He's quiet, for a time. Then his soft voice comes from the dark, "I tried to get him to ascend."

And she can't answer him, because she knows he knows that ascending was something Jack would never do. "I'm tired, Daniel."

"I know."

And, for a moment, she can almost feel the lips that press a kiss to her cheek. "Sleep, Sam."

In the morning, she sorts through the program and considers the glyphs Daniel gave her. It's a simple matter to program them in. They'll be tossed out in less than a month, and should coincide with SG-1 getting another assignment. The planet is unremarkable, Daniel says there's a naquadah mine, but the palace of Ba'al is a long walk from the gate. All she has to do is keep the original survey to a minimum, and it will be a cake-walk.

Two weeks pass, SG-1 successfully avoids distinguishing themselves and/or getting captured. Most of the SGC assumes this simply means everything with them is a hundred percent.

Only Jonas and Teal'c still watch her, when they think she isn't paying attention.

Summers is actually fitting in, his wry humor breaking the ice over the campfire, and his eagerness getting him the middle watch more often than not. And between the three men of SG-1, the SGC mess hall staff is kept on their toes providing more helpings of food.

There is no remorse in knowing that she lies to them every day she breathes.

Daniel shows up one night, "It'll be tomorrow, Sam. And Hammond isn't going to be easy about this planet. It's going to give him a bad feeling."

"Everything gives George a bad feeling."

Irreverence in the face of adversity is a Jack O'Neill trait. She figures she's earned the right to use it.

"Good luck, Sam."

She knows this is the last time she'll see him. "Hey, Daniel."

"Hrm?"

"Give 'em hell."

The morning dawns cold, and she whimsically attributes it to hell freezing over (Netu, after all, is dead and buried and blown to smithereens in the depths of space). She will get what she wants today, because there isn't anyone who will want to stop her.

She's wrong.

General Hammond objects, thinks the planet might be too deep into goa'uld occupied territory.

"It looks safe, sir." She doesn't scream, she doesn't yell, she doesn't tell him she thinks he's an over-cautious old man. Because she knows he's actually right.

She's just not going to tell him that.

It's Summers that saves the day, amusingly enough. There are geological formations that practically make him wet his pants, he's bouncing so much.

And although Teal'c is giving her a knowing look, Jonas agrees with him. And Hammond is swayed. As long as they promise to stick close to the gate. And be good. "We'll be good, sir."

It's a fairly barren, desolate rock. And Sam can hear Jack mocking the lack of trees as they set up camp less than 15 meters from the gate. Within an hour, Jonas and Summers are trading comments back and forth as they investigate the maze of rocks. Sam sits on the steps of the gate, watching them. And feeling Teal'c watching her.

"Major Carter."

They're still working on the paperwork for her promotion. She isn't in a hurry, just yet. "What?" Her tone is lifeless. The lifelessness of the world must be getting to her, because she feels listless and bored.

"What is your purpose in coming here?"

To die. But that isn't the whole truth, and so she doesn't say it. "It seemed like such a fabulous vacation spot, T. I figured," she waved a hand, "it'd do as much as the next one."

He tilts his head, watches her.

But he isn't going to get anymore, and he seems to sigh. "I believe O'Neill would have wanted you to be happy."

Which is such an out of left field statement that she can only stare at him, and blink.

An inclination of his head, and he is gone, heading off to corral the boys who are bouncing further and further away.

It's the opportunity she's been waiting for.

The lightweight backpack stays with her, but she dumps the rations. If this plan works, they'll never know where she went. The note she leaves pinned to the plinth says very little. And then she dials.

She can hear the radio she left behind crackle, and Jonas calling her. He can wait, though. Hopefully, Teal'c hadn't noticed her noticing her surroundings when they first did the sweep. The scrubby vegetation is itchy, and she doesn't even want to know what bugs are going to crawl in her hair as she shinnies underneath and closes her eyes. And waits.

The gate shuts down.

Within a few minutes, the boys are back, babbling and worried and excited. Teal'c finds the note, and she can swear he is finding her in the bushes, too, but he doesn't come over and rat her out.

Twenty minutes later, after a conversation with General Hammond, the boys reluctantly gate home. They don't know where she's gone, but they hope that her note tells the truth.

"Guys. Something I need to do. Further intelligence in my computer. Don't wait up for me, Teal'c. Sam."

An hour later and she's walking down the dusty road that leads to hell.

It's a grim thought, but she isn't going to ignore it.

Five hours later, and the jaffa spot her. She doesn't give up without a fight, but they still don't have too much trouble taking her down.

A little punching and pulling, and they drag he before their God.

"My lord. The Tau'ri woman we discovered."

She licks her lips as he steps up to look at her, and she meets his eyes, knowing there's a smirk building and unable to stop it. "Hi honey. I'm home."

-tbc- 


	2. Breaks Without Pity

Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: PG13. Violence, language.  
Setting: Abyss, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Mirror Universe.  
Pairings referenced: Sam/Jack, Sara/Jack Archive: Yes, whatever.  
Notes: Hit me while walking to work on Tuesday. Three-fourths of this was actually written there until A came by and told me not to type (even when I have nothing else to do... sigh. Hate my job). The rest was written that night, and then edited tonight because I needed the distance (and time to plot out what else is going on). The title and chapter titles are ENTIRELY stolen from the Pet Shop Boys' song of the same name which is a NICE song. Sigh. Damn them.

Up Against It Chapter 2: Breaks Without Pity by Ana Lyssie Cotton

There are hours after that, where she has time to re-think her plan. But mostly she spends the time in pain.

It's not something she's used to, and the first time she wakes up after death, she almost is thankful to feel alive. But then it all comes rushing back, the sardonic and evil face peering in at her plucking at her nerves. "Welcome back, Major."

She wants to tell him it's almost Colonel, now, but that promotion probably isn't going to go through anytime soon.

At the beginning, she thinks, as she wakes for the seventh time, it had seemed such a simple plan.

Get captured.

Wait for him to make a mistake.

Kill him.

But he's good. Too good, she has decided. And she's so very tired of resisting his demands. Of not telling him the gate codes and how to destroy the SGC from the inside out.

The only thing that makes her hang on is the memory of the broken and bloody body the Tok'ra recovered after Yu's forces decimated the stronghold. After Ba'al fled.

She snarks at him, sometimes, says angry, sarcastic things that she learned from the Colonel, and from the pain in her own mind.

And heart, but she is ignoring the heart.

The fifth time she dies, he wakes her up with his customary smirk, and says, "You remind me of someone, Major Carter. But he didn't last so long as you."

Eight. Nine.

And then he finally does it.

The simplicity of it staggers her (or would, if she weren't nearly dead). He gets distracted -- by politics, by a servant. She doesn't care how. But he doesn't make certain she's dead. And as they cart her into the sarcophagus, she reaches for the kife buried in her side. It's slick with her own blood (all of them are, and so is her skin, but she doesn't want to think about paint by numbers). It takes longer than she'd like to pull it free, and there's more pain. They drop her into the machine, roughly pulling the serrated edges from her skin. She has no voice left to scream.

And they don't miss the one she has in her hand, don't stop to count them before the lid closes.

It is enough. It has to be enough, because she's going to tell him everything this time. She can't handle more pain and death and pain and death. Never-ending moebius loops were never her best friend.

Because she wasn't dead, she wakes early, this time. Is aware before the lid opens. There are only seconds, milliseconds, she could count them in pairs or turn them into a quadratic equation.

"Hello again, Major."

The hand is moving, instinct driving her, up and in, thrust, twist, the knife buries itself into his neck, scraping at the spinal column, and then curving up and slicing into the symbiote.

Blood, hot and warm and wet sprays out, covering her instantly, but she ignores it, moves and lunges for the device on the body's belt. Ba'al may not have worn a ribbon device often, but he carried one, considering it a fine decoration. Her hand closes on it, and she is scrambling to pull it on, the blood making her hands slicker, making it easier.

The first concussive blast knocks the jaffa to the ground, but only stuns them, and she has time to scramble out of the sarcophagus before using it again.

This time, the energy and force is enough to kill some of them, and keep the rest unconscious.

It's a simple matter to find the control room, to cross a few wires and splice in the gravity generator. And then she simply rings herself outside the palace, moves to a hilltop, and waits.

As implosions go, it's probably large. But there isn't much to see. Just the building warping and twisting and finally falling in on itself.

"Was it everything you hoped for?"

Daniel would be here, now. "I guess."

She attempts to shove her hands in her pockets, and frowns. Ah, yes. Ba'al had ripped them out, at some point. Most of her clothing is in tatters, really. And he took her boots.

"Now what?"

"I kick myself for not stealing a pair of boots, and then walk to the gate."

"You really think the SGC will take you back?"

She shrugs and starts walking in the direction she'd come from. "I'm not sure I care if they do, anymore."

"What?"

A laugh escapes her, soft and bitter. "One more time, Daniel. It's all it would have taken. If he hadn't made that one mistake, I'd be in there now, spilling my guts."

"Oh."

They walk in relative silence for a while. She has to be careful where to step, the ground carrying too many sharp things that make her wince.

"You know, that ribbon device can produce a shield against any weapon."

"Except a well-thrown knife."

"Well, yeah."

But the point is taken, and she pauses, focuses on the metal still attached to wrist and arm. For a moment, there's nothing. And then a small trickle, pooling at her feet. She steps onto it. It gives, slightly, but she can't feel the dirt underneath anymore. "Look, ma, I found a new use for the ribbon device."

Silence descends, and her progress speeds up. Even as tired and worn as she is, she makes the gate in nine hours. It's still there, shining and solid on the horizon. The energy expended by the ribbon device makes her consider simply curling up and sleeping. But it's cold, and she has dried blood covering a large portion of her skin. It's tacky and smelly and annoying.

"Where to?"

"Locker room, please."

Daniel chuckles.

"I was thinking I'd head for Cimmeria. Contact the SGC with Gairwyn's help."

"Sound thinking."

"Besides, that way they can't make me go through to test Thor's Hammer." And they would probably want to, considering she could have been implanted. The time she'd set on the program on her computer was nearly up and soon Jonas, Teal'c and Summers would know exactly what she'd been up to. If Jonas hadn't already figured out the backdoor, at least.

"Ah."

"This is goodbye, isn't it." The glyphs are cool underneath her fingers, but she waits to push them.

"Yeah. And I would have said, I might see you later, but Oma..."

"Tracked you, did she?"

"Take care, Sam. Don't do anything stupid again."

"Yeah." She doesn't point out that he didn't answer her question. Instead, she pushes down the first glyph. "I'll try not to."

The journey through the wormhole is cold, but she was prepared for that. Her body's reserves are almost spent, now. She lands on the platform amidst the cheering of the locals, some of whom still think Thor is an all-powerful God who put them on Cimmeria to eat, drink and be merry.

Sam wonders, as the light from Thor's Hammer spills over her, what they make of her.

"Hello?"

The voice is uncertain, and Sam doesn't blame the woman standing before her. It's not everyday a tattered and blood-soaked member of the Tau'ri appears on your gatestep. "Hi, Gairwyn."

"Major Carter." Her face clears, although the concern is still there. "You look--"

"Like hell. I know." Sam starts to reach up to scrub a hand over her face, and discovers the ribbon device still there. She pulls it off, thoughtfully, "I don't suppose I could borrow some clothes, get cleaned up?"

"Of course." Gentle hands touch her and help her down from the platform. "You are shaking with exhaustion."

"Haven't..." it's hard to speak now, to even think. "Eaten in... a while."

Darkness finally spirals in, and Sam has just enough energy to pull the device from her hand. "Keep this... safe."

Sam awakens to firelight and the feeling of being clean. Like someone had boiled her for a little while to remove all of the grit. There were clean (slightly scratchy) sheets surrounding her, and the scent of herbs.

"You're awake. Good." Gairwyn's face appears nearby, and she smiles softly, "I have contacted your people. They were... disturbed, I believe is the word, when I told them of your condition."

"Thank you."

"As was I." A hand touches her cheek. "Major Carter, there was so much blood..."

"None of it was mine." She tries to ignore how nice it is to be touched so gently. "Ba'al is dead."

There should be victory in the words, happiness, joy. There is only the sense that she has nothing left to do now. A hopeless, empty feeling.

Gairwyn's hand stills. "I have heard of this Ba'al." Her face darkens, and she looks away, "It is said he kills men and brings them back to life merely to kill them again."

"Yes." And suddenly, Sam wants nothing more than for Gairwyn to leave. Now. Before the careful gentleness shatters the control that has seen her through everyday life. "Gairwyn, I--"

A knock from the door saves her. A knock, and she can shove it all down again, bury it beneath steel-toed boots and concrete.

"Come in."

"Gairwyn." The boy bows, and Sam wonders if she recognizes him. Possibly. "The Tau'ri are here, they wish to speak with you and our guest."

"Major?"

A slight smile touches Sam's lips at the protectiveness of Gairwyn. "It's all right."

"Send them in, Leygo."

General Hammond leads the group, and Sam barely has time to be astonished about that before he bellows, "What the HELL did you think you were doing, Major?!"

"Sir--"

"No." His hand comes up, and his eyes glare at her. "You risked your life, and your career, and for what? Some stupid suicidal mission? Revenge? Major, you assured me you were perfectly sane and capable of being in control of yourself and your team. I assured the President AND the Pentagon that you were!"

She takes the chance when he pauses to breathe. "Ba'al is dead." There is no triumph in her words.

"Be that as it may--"

"General Hammond." Teal'c's calm voice interrupts him. "I believe Major Carter requires rest."

Again, kindness is almost her undoing, but she did not falter under torture, and she won't give in now. "I assessed the risk, sir. I risked no one's life but my own."

"What would have happened if he'd taken you alive and tortured you, Major? Your brain contains a lot of valuable information!" He isn't done yet.

"In the event of my capture, sir, I would have," memory flashes through her, pain and acid-edged knives, she gulps, "I would have told him nothing. Or killed myself."

"And if he'd revived you?"

Waking up to white light that never ever ended, and she couldn't stop it, couldn't end it. "I would have kept dying. Sir."

A hand touches her cheek, and she flinches away. Teal'c looks up. "General Hammond, I would appreciate you allowing Major Carter to rest now."

Gairwyn has been watching, Sam thinks, watching and the knowing look in her eyes echoes the one in Teal'c's. "Indeed, kind sir. Major Carter is my guest, and I will not allow you to berate her for what has already occurred. Friends of Thor or not."

Hammond eyes the woman, then nods. "Major, this conversation is not over."

"No sir."

After he's gone, she looks at Gairwyn. "Thank you."

Looking strangely unreadable, Gairwyn nods towards the door, "I must attend to him. Do not upset her," she adds as she steps past Jonas and Teal'c.

"We'll try not to," Jonas mutters.

"Hey." She isn't going to apologize to them. Not yet, anyway. Not until it stops hurting.

"Um, look, Sam, there's something..." Jonas glances at Teal'c, as if for help, and the jaffa half-smiles, but shakes his head. "Sam..."

He's saved the trouble of actually telling her, when Summers arrives, another man behind him. "Hey, guys, General Hammond said I should just go ahead and bring our surprise in to see Major Carter."

"You're dead." It's the only thing she can say to the man standing next to Summers, hands in his pockets.

"Actually, Major, I'm very much alive, aren't I guys?" And a grin lights his face.

Please let this be a nightmare, she thinks, "I saw your body, sir. You're dead." Her voice cracks, slightly, but she ignores it.

"Actually, you saw his body." The man replies. The grin shifts, and he looks at the other three men. "What, you haven't told her? Guys..."

"He's from a mirror universe, Sam. The joint chiefs have already approved him staying here, leading SG-1." Jonas sounds almost miserable. And probably with good reason. This Colonel O'Neill seems to vibrate with vitality and humor. And he's probably ten years younger.

"A mirror universe." She repeats, and now she's numb. Numb, because she can't think further than this. From point A to point B. And from there to point C. And, hopefully, she wouldn't scream.

"Yeah." Jonas shifts, awkward. "His universe is over-run, and he says his... people... sent him through to try and get help, but we can't find it anymore."

People. Right. She narrows her eyes, "The Jack O'Neill I know would never allow himself to leave people behind. How many did you leave?"

"Whoa. They bred you feisty, in this universe." His eyes spark with appreciation. "I like that in a woman."

"Get the fuck out of here. Now."

"Now, listen, Dr. Carter," and there was insolent emphasis put on her name, as if it was lower than he cared to comment on. "I--"

"Jonas. Teal'c. If you do not get him out of here, I will not be responsible for my actions." She was trembling, standing and shaking in the middle of the room her hands clenched tightly to avoid the irresistible urge to reach out and rend him limb from limb. She remembers enough technique from Ba'al that she could probably make it hurt really good.

Even if Summers has only known her for five weeks, he recognizes the tone (if not the easy capacity for violence, and she feels sick again). His hand closes on the Colonel's elbow. "Come along, sir, I'm sure General Hammond would be fascinated to hear you."

"Hey--"

"I believe." Teal'c looms (as only Teal'c can, and for that, she is grateful) over the man, "That you will remove yourself from our presence. Now."

Then he is gone, and she sinks down onto the bed, trying to stop the shaking in her hands. "That is... That is not..."

"Sam." Jonas's hand touches her shoulder, and she flinches. "Sam, we know he isn't ours. But we're kind of stuck with him."

"Stuck?" Her voice squeaks, and she jerks her head up to stare wildly at Teal'c. "I did not kill Ba'al for Jack so that he could be replaced by that.. that..." Words fail her, and she slowly drops her head into her hands.

"Major Carter." Teal'c knows better than to touch her, but his voice is soft. "O'Neill would have--"

"Fuck that. I will not work with him, Teal'c. And I can't believe you will, either."

He sighs, "Indeed. I find myself missing O'Neill triply with every micro-second spent in this man's company."

A chuckle escapes her at his words. "God. Have I told you how much I love you, Teal'c?"

"Not recently, Samantha Carter."

She stands and hugs him, her grip careful. "Thank you."

"Hey." Jonas sounds almost miffed. "What about me?"

"C'mere." She reaches out and drags him into the hug, relaxing into the embrace of the only two men she will probably ever trust again. A hard-won trust, at that. This time, she doesn't stop the tears. "He's really gone."

Jonas gives a soft sigh, and his face settles into the side of her neck, his arms around her and Teal'c.

"Indeed." his voice even softer, Teal'c bends slightly and kisses her forehead. "But we will survive."

"What is this, a new team-bonding technique I don't know about?"

Both men stiffen, but neither is prepared for her moving out of their grasp, and calmly looking at the interloper. "Let me guess. General Hammond thinks you're going to be the leader of SG-1 again."

"Hey, I knew you scientist types were smart."

"Colonel," Hammond is a half-step behind him, his tone chiding, "I told you to ease them into the idea."

"Oh, come on, George, this is SG-1, this is where I belong."

"You're not giving him my team."

"Major, you're not in a position--"

"I may not be, General, but if you hand over command of SG-1 to this asshole, I guarantee I will not be on it. Nor will I be a member of the SGC. I might," a grim smile took her lips, "Even desert and join the Tok'ra and the rebel jaffa."

"Major, I don't think you understand."

"Oh, yes I do, General. You don't think I'm fit to command, but you think he is. That's fine and dandy with me, but I will not be there to watch him destroy everything I care about."

Hammond holds up a hand, "We'll continue this discussion back on Earth, Major."

A laugh escapes her, and she recognizes it from the seventh time Ba'al demanded to know all of her secrets. "I don't think so, sir. I might respect you, but I definitely do not respect your intentions."

"Major Carter, I believe you are acting irrationally."

"Really." She doesn't bother looking at Teal'c. "Tell me, Teal'c, that you can look at that man, and take orders from him."

"Oh, the jaffa'll take orders from me. That's what he's for, ain't it?"

"Major, you're acting irrationally."

"Oh, I'm irrational?!" But something is wrong, now. Something pricked her skin seconds ago, and she turns oh so slowly, to stare at Teal'c. The jaffa is silently holding a needle. "How..." It must be good stuff. Janet probably told them exactly how to knock her for six.

Jonas catches her, "I'm sorry, Sam."

"No. Don't bring me back again, please. Let it end." The words are slurred, but the face in front of hers is Ba'al's, the betrayal of her own body sending her tumbling down into darkness.

tbc 


	3. Still in Fatigues

Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: PG13. Violence, language.  
Setting: Abyss, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Mirror Universe.  
Pairings referenced: Sam/Jack, Sara/Jack Archive: Yes, whatever.  
Notes: Hit me while walking to work on Tuesday. Three-fourths of this was actually written there until A came by and told me not to type (even when I have nothing else to do... sigh. Hate my job). The rest was written that night, and then edited tonight because I needed the distance (and time to plot out what else is going on). The title and chapter titles are ENTIRELY stolen from the Pet Shop Boys' song of the same name which is a NICE song. Sigh. Damn them.

Up Against It Chapter 3: Still in Fatigues by Ana Lyssie Cotton

General George Hammond sometimes hates his job. He looks across the room at Teal'c, eyes mirroring the horror that is suddenly in the tall man's stance. "My god, Teal'c."

"There is no god where she has been."

Jonas Quinn has carefully bundled Major Carter in a few blankets. "She'll be all right, won't she?"

"We can hope, son." The final words on her lips are still ringing in his ears, and he feels a sick sense that it won't be the last thing she says that will break his soul.

"Can I... Can I stop, please?" Colonel O'Neill seems to have sunk in on himself, his eyes wide with something approaching horror as he looks at the three members of SG-1.

"Yes. Thank you for your efforts." He can't call this one 'son', yet. Or even Jack. Because that still hurts a little too much.

"Good." He breaks from his paralysis and moves one step towards the tableau.

The look Jonas is giving him is not friendly.

"Mr. Quinn, I didn't..." A hand rubs across a face in a habitual gesture that makes George whince. "I didn't want to..."

"But you did," and the resentment in the young man's voice is obvious.

"Jonas Quinn. Much as it pains me to admit it, Major Carter is currently not in her right state of mind."

"Maybe. And maybe she's just fine."

"She is not just fine." Gairwyn looks at them, a sad note in her voice. "When she came to me, she was covered in the blood of the man she killed. She could barely stand."

"Let's get her back to base, people. Gairwyn, I'm sorry you had to be a witness and a party to this."

"Major Carter has risked her life on behalf of my people before, General. I would not turn my back on a debt owed."

"Nor will we."

She inclines her head. "Thank you."

The trip back to the gate and to the SGC is uneventful, only a few villagers seeing them off. Major Carter is bundled off to the infirmary, Jonas and Teal'c in their wake. Summers follows with very little hesitation, but Jack O'Neill stands in the gate room looking torn.

"She's not going to want to speak to me, is she."

"No. Until we've had time to explain to her Mackenzie's reasoning."

An irritated expression appears on the younger man, "Y'know, I didn't like him on my side of the mirror. I bet he's as much of an ass here, too."

"Probably." That this Jack O'Neill is correct doesn't make George feel any better. Instead of dwelling on it, for the moment, he considers what he knows of the man next to him. Still married to Sara with two kids, leading SG-1, but not in the capacity they had been here. Not the first-strike team. No, they were the second in, pulling ambassadorial duties and flashy showings of rank.

Something like guilt touches Jack's face. "I think she was right, sir."

"Right?"

"About me. I never should have left."

"Son." And now he is son, because George is tired of losing his people. "You did what you had to do. And she'll understand that."

"Not if she's anything like Sara." Now there's grief as well.

George sighs, "Go to your quarters, we're still working on the legalities. I'll have someone ready to drive you home once the paperwork is completed."

With a salute, Colonel O'Neill leaves. And General George Hammond sighs, and heads to his office to do paperwork and await the inevitable report from Dr. Fraiser.

He spends three hours filing away documents dealing with the SGC. Reports, invoices, lists of personnel -- all busy work. Until, finally, there is a knock on his door, and Janet Fraiser enters without waiting for permission.

There is little bounce in her step and she looks dead tired, as if she's run a marathon to hell and back. Maybe she has.

"Report."

"Except for a little anemia, and a little malnutrition, she's in perfect health, sir."

He knows it's the tip of the iceberg. "And?"

"There's evidence of old injuries, but nothing conclusive. If I had to guess, I'd say she was in a sarcophagus at least twice. Possibly more. And, sir, I don't think she's going to actually tell us."

"I know, Doctor. What else?"

"She still hasn't woken up, but she also had very low blood sugar. She's simply worn out, sir."

"Who's with her?"

"After hearing Jonas's report, I thought it best to leave only him and Cassie. Sam... Sam doesn't deal well with being betrayed, sir."

"It was necessary."

"Was it?"

Hammond sighs. He wants, more than anything, to go back in time and throttle Mackenzie. Better yet, he can have the man re-assigned the moment he first meets him. "We thought... He thought we needed to do this. That she needs a catharsis of some sort."

"I'm not sure, at this point, what she needs." Fraiser stands and moves towards the door, "But I will not tolerate that man anywhere near her."

"I'll make sure he understands that."

"You do that." She pauses, hand on the knob. "Oh, and General, make no mistake, Sam WILL be back 100 percent. Even if it kills her."

That's what I'm afraid of, he thinks.

-

White, again, and she remembers Ba'al laughing as she fell down the rabbit hole. She doesn't want to wake up, doesn't want to be able to feel just yet. But there's a hand in hers, and that is somehow wrong.

It takes a moment for her eyes to function properly, and then she can see. Cassandra Fraiser has fallen asleep in the chair next to her bed, hand still tightly clasped. Sam stares at her, and tries to remember how she got here. For a wild moment, she's so afraid this is still Ba'al's palace, that she's hallucinating. But she wouldn't hallucinate everything down to the beeps of the machines and the sound of Janet's heels. Would she?

"Hey."

Not sure if she wants to speak yet, Sam simply watches the doctor do her job. A motherly, amused smile, gets sent towards Cassie. "I see she couldn't hack it. She's going to be irritated, she bet Jonas she could."

"Teal'c drugged me." The sense of betrayal blasts through her, already broken and scoured parts of her brain crying for mercy.

"He only did what he thought he had to."

"Janet." Her voice is raspy, but she's through asking for help. It simply gets her into trouble. "All they had to do was ask."

"Really? According to General Hammond, you were incoherent with rage. They were--"

Memory cascades back. A broken, bloody body, Malek's sad words. They tried, but there wasn't any time to save him. And then everything greys out, because she doesn't want to remember what happens next. It's easier to focus on the man, arrogant and mocking, who broke her control. The Colonel was always good at that. Driving her insane. "Janet... Is he really staying?"

"For the moment, yes. His world was over-run, Sam. He lost everyone." Janet actually sounds sad.

"He's an asshole."

"Only because he was asked to be."

"What?"

Janet sighs, "Dr. Mackenzie came up with this theory that you needed to be prodded into a breakdown of some sort. And since we suddenly had a Colonel O'Neill, who was most definitely NOT dead, he thought that would be a perfect use for him."

"Say that again in English."

"You got it the first time."

"He's not an asshole?"

"Oh, he's as much of an asshole as our Colonel was. And younger, to boot, which has, of course, disconcerted all of my nurses."

"And made him smirk," Sam mutters.

"He's still grieving over his wife, Sam. I don't think he even notices."

"So... all the things he said, the way he acted -- it was all a lie?"

"Yup."

"Janet? When did I get to the Bizarro SGC?" She wants to cry, but fights it back, because crying is pointless.

"About the same time you signed on here."

"Yeah." Sam looks down at Cassie, still asleep. "When can I go home?"

"I'd like to keep you here for observation--"

"Please?"

Janet half-smiles, "I knew you would want to leave, though. So you can. But, ONLY, if you take Jonas with you."

"Why not Teal'c?" And she can't keep the sarcasm from her voice.

"Because he's the one who drugged you."

Nice to know someone knows her. She tugs on Cassie's hand. "Hey, sleepy. Wake up."

The teenager jerks her head up, and blinks. "Sam!"

"Heya, kid-- Oof." The wind knocked out of her, she hugs the suddenly on her chest teen. "Hey. Need to breathe, here."

"Oh. Sorry." The grip loosens, and Cassie looks at her. "You're all right?"

"Yeah." Brushing a strand of hair away from Cassie's face, Sam smiles. "And your mother is letting me go home."

"Lucky you."

"She has to take Jonas."

"Ooooh. Doubly lucky."

Sam rolls her eyes, "Hey. Need to sit up now, Cass."

"Gotcha."

With little trouble, Sam sits up, then eyes Janet expectantly.

"What?"

"Clothes?"

The doctor rolls her eyes. "Coming right up, my liege."

Cassie giggles, then sighs and leans against Sam. "It's good to have yo back."

"Good to be back, kid." She ruffles the teenager's hair.

There's a commotion at the infirmary door, and Sam raises her eyebrows as Mackenzie stalks in, the on-duty nurse behind him. "Sir, you can't--"

"Dr. Fraiser, I can't believe you're letting this woman go!"

"This is MY infirmary."

"She's a danger to herself, she--"

"Excuse me?" Sam's hand is very polite as she taps him on the shoulder.

"Major." He looks her up and down, "You shouldn't be out of bed, or this infirmary."

"Actually," Sam inspects her knuckles, then gives him a toothy grin, "The only person I'm a danger to? Is you." There is something satisfying in the crunch his nose makes as her fist impacts it.

Mackenzie goes down like a two-bit whore.

"Sam."

"Janet." She turns away, disinterested. "I believe you were finding me some clothes?"

"Dr. Fraiser, I tried to stop him--"

"It's all right, Rebecca."

A few minutes later, Mackenzie is on one of the beds (his head, sadly, isn't as hard as certain other people's), and Sam is dressed. She hugs Cassie one last time, then turns to Jonas. "Shall we?"

"Your chariot awaits, Sam." He's grinning, and she wonders about inane things like who taught him to drive. Oh, right. Her.

Checking out is simple, the drive is silent, her house is dusty. She waves a hand at the guest room, tells him where the sheets are, and retires. Because she needs sleep. She's sure of it. she's just not sure if she's actually sleepy.

Two hours of tossing and turning are her limit, and she heard Jonas settle at least an hour and a half before. She doesn't want to wake him, but she needs to do something.

And her house is dusty.

Dressing in a baggy pair of pants and a t-shirt, she starts in the bathroom (the kitchen is the one horror she doesn't want to face in the half-light of 1 a.m.), scrubbing the sink until it gleams and then moving on to the tub. By the time she makes it out to the living room, Jonas is up again.

"Sam?"

"I can't sleep."

They clean and dust until there isn't anything left in the living room that isn't spotless, and then they move on. They tackle the kitchen around 5, in silence (except for the occasional request for various cleaning supplies). Jonas finally admits defeat (and a need for sleep) around 7.

And then it's only her, in the silence of her house. Jonas doesn't snore, or he hasn't learned to yet. Sam kind of wonders if you can teach that sort of thing.

The Colonel snored. It was one of the things that endeared him to her (which is stupid and sappy and completely sentimental, and if she had slept, she wouldn't even be thinking it). He didn't snore off world. But on team nights, when they'd all be crashed out, he did it. Daniel snored, too. There are no tears in her to cry, she thinks Ba'al stole them with the sarcophagus.

Ba'al stole a lot of things from her.

She doesn't want to think of him, though, so she flips on the tv and watches early morning cartoons. And marvels at the stupidity of the population that allows their children to watch such drek.

When Jonas finally gets up, she's taken a shower and gotten dressed in something vaguely respectable. Once she's fed him (and her, she'd almost forgotten how good food could be), she drags him off with her to the mall. Cassie would probably have liked to go, but she isn't planning to buy anything. She just doesn't want to be alone in the silence.

They window shop and try things on and mock each other for hours like two crazy teenagers. It's probably the most fun she's had in ages. Only one store makes her turn around and leave, heart pounding, and that's because the leather smells too much like him.

"Hey."

"Candy store."

And the moment is lost with the hundred other little moments she doesn't want to remember.

-

She actually sleeps that night, and only dreams once. And the dream isn't something she remembers in the morning. Jonas makes breakfast, leaving her to watch and mock him (he made the coffee first). And she feels almost all domestic, except that her feet aren't bare, and she has a knife in her boot. Maybe a little paranoid and domestic.

The phone rings around ten, and she grabs it before Jonas can (he's still doing the dishes, wearing his "Kiss the Cook" apron). "Carter."

"Major." Hammond sounds tired, "The Tok'ra and the rebel jaffa are requesting your assistance at the Alpha Site."

"I thought none of you could trust me, sir." The sarcasm is all Jack's, at this point.

"I can't, but they're requesting you and the rest of SG-1."

"And him?"

"Once they were told of his existence, he was added to their list."

Her gut roils, and she wonders if she can hold her breakfast down. "Who's in charge?"

"You."

"Will he take my orders?"

"You have permission to kick his ass back through the gate if he doesn't."

The unsettled feeling continues, but it's slightly different now. "Thank you, sir. Jonas and I will be in within the hour."

-tbc- 


	4. Synchronize Your Watches

Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: PG13. Violence, language.  
Setting: Abyss, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Mirror Universe.  
Pairings referenced: Sam/Jack, Sara/Jack Archive: Yes, whatever.  
Notes: Hit me while walking to work on Tuesday. Three-fourths of this was actually written there until A came by and told me not to type (even when I have nothing else to do... be here, he IS still Jack O'Neill, and unless he tells me otherwise, I'm going to assume he can use a gun."

"Uh, I can." He sounds uncertain.

Good. He can damn well pay for making her lose it. "Get him fitted with a P-90. Now."

Two SFs disappear and then reappear with the appropriate equipment. O'Neill opens his mouth, then closes it. Within four minutes, he's ready to go.

"General."

"Major. Come back alive."

"Like a cat, sir, I have nine lives." And she's used up every single one of them.

"Good luck, people."

They step into the wormhole, and step out into raised staff weapons and guns. "Halt." Calls a harsh voice.

"Well, this is new," Sam says with dry sarcasm.

"Major Carter!" An older him to be here, he IS still Jack O'Neill, and unless he tells me otherwise, I'm going to assume he can use a gun."

"Uh, I can." He sounds uncertain.

Good. He can damn well pay for making her lose it. "Get him fitted with a P-90. Now."

Two SFs disappear and then reappear with the appropriate equipment. O'Neill opens his mouth, then closes it. Within four minutes, he's ready to go.

"General."

"Major. Come back alive."

"Like a cat, sir, I have nine lives." And she's used up every single one of them.

"Good luck, people."

They step into the wormhole, and step out into raised staff weapons and guns. "Halt." Calls a harsh voice.

"Well, this is new," Sam says with dry sarcasm.

"Major Carter!" An older man bustles through the crowd, he smiles as he reaches her, "Welcome."

"Master Bra'tac." She hesitantly clasps his arm, uncertain if this is what she's supposed to do. This was always the Colonel's job. "Why'd you call?"

"I have heard of your loss. And I am sorry for it." Now there is something approaching sadness and understanding in his eyes.

"Thank you. But we got a new one, and I'm told he's even shinier." The sarcastic anger in her voice is hard to disguise.

His eyes flick to the Colonel, then back to her. "You are in charge, however?"

"Indeed." She squeezes him arm, then releases it. "So. What's up?"

"There is an assassin among us." The deep voice of a Tok'ra comes from behind Bra'tac.

"Malek." Inclining her head, she glances around. "And I suppose you believe this assassin is not a member of SG-1."

"That is why we required your help."

"So, you guard the gate from him, or her, and hope you get 'em before they dial out and escape?"

"Something like that, yes." Bra'tac replies.

"Ah." Settling her P-90 more securely, Sam stalks over to the DHD. It takes less than a minute to open the panel at the base, reach in, and pull out three of the control crystals. They shine in the sunlight overhead, and she looks up. "Anyone who needs to leave will have to get these back from me."

"Major, is this wise?"

"Does a bear --" She stops, and shrugs, tucking the crystals in an inner pocket. "Ask me again tomorrow, Bra'tac. In the meantime, why don't you explain more of the situation?"

SG-1 sticks close as Bra'tac and Malek take turns explaining how the Tok'ra base was over-run and they had to evacuate to the Alpha Site. Tensions are high amongst the jaffa and the Tok'ra both. There has been a death on both sides, and Dr. Fraiser her determined the killer was the same person. Whether jaffa or Tok'ra or Tau'ri remains unknown. She can tell that he wants to say something, but then stops. Half a dozen times she sense it, and she almost turns to him the fourth time, because she wants to ask him something.

But the wrong man is standing to her right.

It also transpires that Janet Fraiser is the only reason the jaffa and Tok'ra aren't already killing each other. It seems they're all equally scared of her, and when she threatened them, they all backed down. "Like squabbling children." Sam murmurs.

Bra'tac blinks at the sarcasm, then continues.

It's not so different, being the one in charge. Half the time, the Colonel seemed to have only been the one saying yes. She had to come up with the ideas.

Now she does both jobs.

"We conducted za'tarc tests, but most were inconclusive."

"That's because those damned things aren't accurate or discerning."

"And you would know, I suppose." Now, he wasn't being silent. There was something sarcastic about his phrasing. Perhaps he's smarting at not being in charge.

"Why, yes, Jack, I suppose I would." Turning away from him, she eyes the crowd, and frowns. "Malek, out of curiosity, where are Jacob and Selmak?"

A sigh from the current leader of the Tok'ra, "We are afraid that they are overdue from a recent mission."

"Oh?"

"Yes. They were sent to retrieve some data from Ba'al," Malek shakes his head, "They should have returned a few days ago, and now, I fear they will not find the base intact."

Cold grips her, and she doesn't have to look to know Jonas has now moved to stand next to her, and she takes strength from that, grabs at it. For Jonas can read her like Teal'c can (like Daniel could, and in a way that took Jack way too long to learn -- which hurts), and the jaffa would be at her side, but he was across the square, and hasn't had time to get back to her. "Ba'al?" She's very proud that her voice doesn't squeak.

"Yes."

"And, he's overdue." Her color must have disappeared, and she knows she is shaking. Days. Her father was in Ba'al's palace the day it went up. Probably. Her throat closes, and she struggles against it.

"Sam." Jonas is close enough to touch, but doesn't.

And for that, she's grateful, because if he did, she would lose it. Right here, and right now.

"Is there something about Ba'al?" Malek glances at the Colonel. "We understand that he killed the original O'Neill, but--"

"Ba'al is dead." The words come out with a little too much breath. "You must've missed the memo, but then, who reads their memos anymore?"

"How can you be certain?"

"Because I killed him myself." The words drag her into an abyss of memory, and she fights it, drags against it. And still keeps control control control, because if she loses it now, she will lose their respect and her own dignity. "And now, if you gentlemen will excuse me."

No waiting for an answer, and she's out of the square and moving towards the edge of the tree line. Only one thought: leave now, before memory and emotion collide.

"You can't be certain." Jonas has followed her, and she isn't surprised. "He could have been gone by then, or gotten out, or--"

"The palace is so much rubble."

"So, the palace is rubble." Jonas throws a hand out and flaps it. "Maybe he left."

"Right." She pushes away from the emotions, buries them. "Let's not talk about it. Let's talk about other things."

"Like this assassin?"

"I'm betting it's an ash'rak, considering how well it's hidden."

"Yeah." Jonas considers, then pulls out his notepad. "I think I have an idea."

He writes on it, and it takes her a minute to realize what he's writing. It's been a long time since she had to memorize Morse code in flight-training. The plan is simple, and fairly clear-cut. "Looks good." She sighs and leans against a tree. "Let's go back, shall we? And you can figure out how to explain it to everyone."

Major Sam Carter spends the next two hours monitoring disputes between both sides and resisting the urge to call them all children. It wouldn't be professional. Probably. Bra'tac is her shadow, as if the elder jaffa has sensed something about her turmoil. Once or twice, Colonel O'Neill tries to talk to her, but her short clipped responses send him off again.

It isn't that she wanted him on this mission, but she understood the expedience. He'd been requested, and she wasn't going to waste resources. She also wasn't going to put herself out and actually talk to him.

"Look, Carter," he tries, at one point.

Ice freezes in her veins, and she looks him in the eye, "Call me that again and I will shoot you where you stand."

"What the hell am I supposed to call you, then, Major? Hey, you?"

"That will do nicely," And she whirls and leaves him standing there, hears Bra'tac chuckle and tell him that she means it.

Bra'tac finally calls her on it. "You treat him as the sand beneath your feet."

"Yeah, well, I don't make it my business to get close to men who are dead in this universe, but alive in others."

Eyebrows raise, "Is it not a good thing O'Neill has returned?"

"I saw his body, Bra'tac. Jack O'Neill is dead to me." She wants to leave it there, and turns away, speaking with false cheer, "Tell me about the kids, Bra'tac. Are they doin' ok?"

He allows the diversion, and speaks quickly and concisely about the children and their development. Ry'ac continues to train with the warriors, earning their respect as he has already earned his father's. They talk for several minutes until a messenger arrives from Janet. Grateful for the distraction, Sam takes her leave of Master Bra'tac and skirts the square until they come to a deserted portion.

The hair on the back of her neck stands, and it's the only warning she has to drop. Something slams into the young man who brought the message, and he goes down, blood spurting. Without giving herself time to fully register the sight, she rolls, comes up in a crouch and levels the P-90, trying to find a target.

Nothing.

The wind blows through her hair.

It's broad daylight out, and there is nothing there.

Something killed the boy.

Unbidden, a line from Teal'c's favorite movie echoes in her mind. 'Use the force, Luke.'

Sam closes her eyes.

Her breathing stops. And for just a second, she hears something. On the edge of sound, metal sliding over cloth.

Which still gives her no warning as something slams into the side of her head, sending her sprawling again. The weight lands on her chest, and she would laugh at the invisibleness of her attacker, if his (or her) knife weren't driving into her. But she has faced this pain before. Ba'al particularly liked knives, and while it hurts enough to make her want to scream, she can work past it. Has to.

Her hand balls into a fist and she punches up, striking a blow that glances off and doesn't do anything except make it hurt more.

But she has her other hand free, the knife at her belt clasped within it.

As before, she has seconds before the ash'rak ends her life and takes off with the crystals for the DHD. Without hesitation, she swings, plunging the knife into its side, trying to strike deep enough to reach the heart.

It backhands her, sending her senses reeling, and her teeth jarring. And then it stabs her again, and she screams, the sound loud (too loud) in her own ears.

"Now." The word comes across her damaged radio.

Energy fills the small area, TER fields crossing and crisscrossing. The ash'rak suddenly appears, its cloaking field destabilizing slightly. It growls and tries to get away, but her knife is still in its side, her hand gripping it, pulling at it.

Another blow to the head, and two staff blasts later, and it's all over.

"Could someone get this thing off me? It weighs," There's blood at the back of her throat, and she swallows against it, "It weighs... a ton."

There's no sarcophagus, this time, she thinks whimsically. Ba'al has finally gotten her tenth death.

-tbc- 


	5. Sweetening the Pill

Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: PG13. Violence, language.  
Setting: Abyss, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Mirror Universe.  
Pairings referenced: Sam/Jack, Sara/Jack Archive: Yes, whatever.  
Notes: Hit me while walking to work on Tuesday. Three-fourths of this was actually written there until A came by and told me not to type (even when I have nothing else to do... sigh. Hate my job). The rest was written that night, and then edited tonight because I needed the distance (and time to plot out what else is going on). The title and chapter titles are ENTIRELY stolen from the Pet Shop Boys' song of the same name which is a NICE song. Sigh. Damn them.

Up Against It Chapter 5: Sweetening the Pill by Ana Lyssie Cotton

He was trying to understand. Really, he was. Jack O'Neill usually prided himself on being vaguely intelligent. He'd even cornered that Jonas Quinn kid, earlier that day. Asked him point blank. "She doesn't like me, does she?"

"You were dead," Jonas had replied.

Even now, he's trying to make sense of that. So he was dead, so what? He got the part where he'd been her commanding officer (some things didn't stay the same). But, he just... Maybe if he'd ever met Dr. Samantha Carter in his own universe, he'd know more. But Jack had been happily married when the stargate program began, and he'd only been tapped recently to lead the flagship team on diplomatic runs. Sara had been thrilled at the soft workload.

But he doesn't want to remember Sara right now.

Instead, he wants to understand the woman on the bed next to him, the one who can't look at him without some part of her seeming to flinch away.

"Heya, Doc."

Janet Fraiser looks up from where she is checking Major Carter's vitals, "O'Neill."

They all call him that. It's kind of disturbing. "Call me Jack."

"I'll think about it," she looks back down at the woman in the bed.

"How is she?"

"Well, the Tok'ra's healing device have fixed everything internally and externally." And the tone of voice betrays that it was a damn good thing they did, otherwise the woman in the bed would be dead. "Other than that, I don't know."

"You don't like me, either." He observes.

"I don't like or dislike you, yet. Although I suppose part of it was you participating in that farce of Mackenzie's."

"Ah. I... I'm sorry about that."

"Tell her that."

"I will. As soon as she wakes up."

The doctor sighs, "Tell her now, O'Neill. Talk to her, tell her about your life and kids and family and why you joined the stargate program."

"Can she...?"

"She can hear you. She just doesn't want to talk." Janet's hands still and Jack fights the urge to say something stupid. "Why did she have to be so stupid?"

"I don't... I don't think she thought it would be this bad."

"Yeah." Pinning him with a look, her voice changes. "Talk to her."

He feels himself stiffen and straighten, fights the urge to salute. "Yes, ma'am."

With a nod, she is gone, back to her office or other patients. They came back from the Alpha Site as soon as possible, and even then it had taken the Tok'ra an hour to fix the crystals back in place so the DHD could be used to dial out. In that time, Janet Fraiser had gotten the Tok'ra to keep Sam Carter alive.

Funny, he thinks, looking down at the pale skin of her face, she didn't look like she was appreciating it.

And that makes him angry. He's lost an entire world, and this woman has lost merely one man. One man. Him. It doesn't seem fair, suddenly. "You listen, Carter, you wake your ass up." The words are harsh, and he wonders about them as she continues to sleep.

Talk to her, the Doc had said.

Fine.

He'll talk.

-

He's been talking for hours. Telling her about Sara and Charlie and Katie, and how they'd almost lost the chance to be a happy family. Special ops and stargate project specs and training kids (Elliot, Hailey, Satterfield, three dozen others who are now gone, and he has to stop for a bit after that). Kawalasky, his best friend who talked him into helping with the training. How he met Daniel Jackson and Teal'c, Colonel Makepeace, Lieutenant Harry Maybourne, and so many many others. Leading SG-1 on missions that stretched the (few) diplomatic skills he had.

The litany of people he has lost goes on until he can't think of it anymore, because it hurts too much.

Colonel Jack O'Neill rarely cries. Right now, he's considering it.

"Hey." the voice is scratchy with misuse.

He literally jumps in his chair, moves to touch her cheek. "Carter?"

"Thought..." the breath required to keep her focused makes him wince, she sounds unutterably exhausted and drained. But at least she isn't in pain anymore, "told you... not to call..." Her eyes close, then re-open, and something close to despair is in them. "...that."

"Until you're back on your own two feet and can kick my ass, I'm going to call you whatever the hell I want. Carter."

"Please don't." There's more than despair now, there's a pain he doesn't want to name.

"Then what do you want me to call you?"

"I would prefer to never see you again, frankly." She is getting stronger, as if the anger and despair are giving her what she needs to fight the tiredness.

"Why? Why do you hate me so much?"

"Because you're not him."

The raw honesty hurts, but he understands it in a way. "No. No I'm not. You know, I never met Dr. Samantha Carter, in my universe. She was just a nebulous consultant they used a few times. Rodney had a lot of things to say about her arrogance."

"He would."

"Tell me about him."

Panic settles in her eyes for a moment, then she stills. "I'd rather not."

"Why?"

"You keep asking that," Frustrated, she shifts, "Why do you keep asking?"

"Because I want to know."

"You want to know?" A shift, and he moves to help her sit up slightly, hoping the Doc won't return to discover him abusing her patient. She feels as limp as a newborn kitten, and he wonders if that's because of the blood loss or the near-death or being healed by the Tok'ra device.

"Yes."

She takes in a breath, lets it out. "Water, first."

And Jack complies, because he senses that she needs this as much as he needs to understand her, and this weird and crazy universe he now lives in.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill has been my commanding officer for nearly six years." The recitation of fact seems to help, and she continues. "During that time, we've seen a lot together. We've lost friends, we've saved each other's asses."

"And?"

"We fell in love." Her lips twist. "Isn't it a fabulous romantic cliche? Female officer falls hard for her commanding officer. Film and scandal at eleven."

He studies her, "Love?"

"I suppose it was love," there is uncertainty now.

"You never uh..."

"No." A head shake, and her eyes close again.

"I mean, aren't there, regulations and stuff?"

"Yes." The tone of her voice is exasperated. "Courts-martial and impediments to further advancement and..." Her voice stops. "And knowing what it feels like to be certain."

"Certain."

"Never something that happens in my life anymore." A strangled laugh, "God."

"Still believe in him?"

"No."

"I'm..." He doesn't know what to say anymore. "I'm sorry" is inadequate, and he thinks her pain has to be worse than his. After all, he knows what it's like to have the person you love reciprocate and adore you. She doesn't. "I think, if he were alive, I'd smack him."

"What?"

"Come on, Carter, do you think he should have left you dangling like this? All these years?"

"It was my decision."

"Then I'd smack you upside the head, but you're injured, and the Doc here terrifies me."

"She should."

"That's what's eating you up, isn't it? The fact that you couldn't let him in, and now he's gone, and you don't know if it would have worked because you ever got the chance." He is shaking his finger at her, angry. Yeah. Definitely angry at everything she's thrown away. "Well, I'll tell you something, Samantha Carter. You're a fool for throwing away any chance you have at happiness. A god-damned fool."

"I know."

The anger leaves him in an instant at the way she looks at him. He runs a hand through his hair, "I'm going to go get the Doc. She should know you're awake."

"I'm... gonna stay here. I guess."

-

"She's a danger to herself. How many times did I have to tell you people that, and STILL, you won't listen to me?"

"Dr. Mackenzie!"

"Sam was only doing what--"

"SILENCE!" The voice of Dr. Janet Fraiser is rarely raised in anger. The whip-crack of it now breaks the four men from their argument and they turn to watch as she comes into the briefing room. "Unless you all have better things to say, I suggest you keep your mouths shut. Clear?"

Teal'c, who has merely loomed at Mackenzie, inclines his head. The other three stiffly nod.

"Good. I'm here to tell you that Major Carter is awake and lucid. She appears to remember everything, and will make a full, physical recovery."

"But not a psychological one, as I've--"

"Shut up." The file in Janet's hands slams onto the table top in front of the startled doctor. "I've been doing a little reading on you, Dickie. And, interestingly enough, I find that most of your clinical trials were based on unproven hypotheses which never bore fruit. Now, unless you have something actually intelligent to say, I suggest you leave this room now before I'm forced to discover a reason to quarantine you until General Hammond decides to escort you off of his base."

"How is she, Janet?" asks Jonas, careful not to sound too eager, although he obviously wants the answer.

"Alive."

"Dr. Fraiser, would it not be wise for us to visit Major Carter?"

"Thank you, Teal'c. I'm sure she'd appreciate it. I'll be discharging her tomorrow, most likely." She stands, "And Dickie, honey, if I catch you anywhere near my infirmary, I'll have Jonas find the coldest planet and we'll gate you there and leave you."

When she's gone, General Hammond turns cold eyes on Dr. Mackenzie, "I've put in for your transfer. You leave to join Dr. McKay in Russia in five hours."

-tbc- 


	6. Wrapped in Nostalgia

Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: PG13. Violence, language.  
Setting: Abyss, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Mirror Universe.  
Pairings referenced: Sam/Jack, Sara/Jack Archive: Yes, whatever.  
Notes: Hit me while walking to work on Tuesday. Three-fourths of this was actually written there until A came by and told me not to type (even when I have nothing else to do... sigh. Hate my job). The rest was written that night, and then edited tonight because I needed the distance (and time to plot out what else is going on). The title and chapter titles are ENTIRELY stolen from the Pet Shop Boys' song of the same name which is a NICE song. Sigh. Damn them.

Up Against It Chapter 6: Wrapped in Nostalgia by Ana Lyssie Cotton

Hammond comes to the infirmary the next morning, and Sam looks up from tying her boots. "Sir." She wonders if she is still in 'this man's army', or if he comes bearing her discharge.

"I have..." Something crosses his face, and he looks away. "I'm sorry, Sam."

She is numb, she convinces herself. She has to be numb because she can't deal with more emotion on top of the everything else. "Sir?"

"You're not going to get a ceremony, the Pentagon thinks it would be a waste of time. And the Air Force thinks you've been allowed too much leniency." He doesn't add that he wanted to tell them to stick their opinions where the sun don't shine, but she guesses he was thinking it.

"I don't understand."

"No, you probably don't." A slight smile touches his lips and he straightens, "I'd like to introduce you to Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter." The salute is crisp.

She is gaping, and she can't stop. "I... sir?"

"The papers came through today. You are officially in charge of SG-1 as a Lieutenant Colonel. Colonel O'Neill is your second in command until he has the ropes -- or until such time as he announces he would prefer something else." He pauses, his eyes studying her. "And you have two months to get him up to speed, Colonel. And then I expect you to wade back into this fight like the officer I know you to be."

She understands his unspoken implications. "I... I will try, sir."

"Good." And he leaves her standing in the infirmary, disturbed and worried and uncertain what she needs to do next. There are things she has to do. Lists she should make.

It's not simple, and it's not easy. First Sam has to learn to deal with her emotions. She can't lock them away like he did (like she has been). Too much at once, and there are so many things she wants to rail and cry and scream about. He is dead and her father is dead (the Tok'ra are vaguely hopeful, considering Jacob's track record). She will have to call Mark, at some point. And probably endure him screaming about how the Air Force has fucked their lives over yet again.

Janet insists on someone driving her home, and the General hands the keys to his truck to O'Neill.

It's still early evening, the sun not yet set when they exit the Mountain. Sam takes a breath, relieved to be outside again. Neither speak as they get into his truck. He fingers the steering wheel for a moment, then starts it up with a growl.

She doesn't speak as he drives through the checkpoints, and he doesn't either.

Eventually, the silence is stretched to the breaking point.

"Do you know how to get there?" It's the only thing she can think of to say. Right now, she's remembering how to act like a normal human being again.

She doesn't want to.

But she will, because she is not giving up the fight against the goa'uld. Not this easily, when they have taken everyone she cares for.

"No."

"Ah." She directs him, noticing as she does so that he drives with more care than her Colonel.

They're almost to her house, when he speaks something other than a grunt of reaction. "Congratulations, by the way."

Eyes fixed on the glowing red light in front of them, she shrugs. "I suppose they'll simply hand command over to you when you're ready."

"I... I don't think I'll ever be ready to command a front-line unit again, Colonel."

The name sounds strange to hear. "It's not as hard as it sounds." Which is a lie, but she's not going to explain it.

A snort echoes in the small space of her car. "Really, Colonel, you're going to have to get better at that."

"Ok. So it's not easy until you remember who you're fighting for, what makes it worth going out there and getting shot at, stabbed, killed, broken and mutilated to within an inch of your life." She pauses, startled to find that her voice is shaking. "You left... too much. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." He pulls to a stop and glances over at her. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow." The lights are on in her house, and she frowns, wondering. "Be careful, sir. And don't speed."

"Gotcha."

The door swings open as she approaches, and Jonas is there. Summers and Teal'c are behind him. And Sam feels a strange sense of relief. She doesn't have to spend tonight alone. But, she thinks as they drag her into the house and she considers whether to play Trivial Pursuit or Monopoly, O'Neill is alone.

-

He spent too long on the base, and even taking the newly-minted Lieutenant Colonel home hadn't prepared him for moving home.

Home.

It's not the same. He wasn't expecting it to be, but he had hope. Now he doesn't.

There are echoes of the other man all over the house, and it takes him a while to sort him out. He finds the shoebox in the back of a closet, and the pictures are old and almost faded. Sara. Charlie. So much happiness, lost. Because things were different. Things are different. Sara has moved on, here, his son is dead. The Jack O'Neill of this side of the mirror was a military man who repressed every emotion until it didn't exist.

Almost every emotion, he relents, remembering that some of the nurses had joked about his sarcasm. Which, apparently, Lieutenant Colonel Carter has picked up.

Beer in the fridge, very little food in the cupboards. He finds a stack of take-out menus by the phone and considers them. Most of Jack O'Neill's credit cards are in his name (which is weird, because he is Jack O'Neill. Only. Not this one). There's going to be a meeting to determine his current financial state, but Jack is already feeling a little overwhelmed.

The Chinese place looks good, and the kid on the phone apparently knows him. He goes with the flow and orders the usual.

And wonders when it arrives why there's enough food to feed ten people.

Then he remembers that SG-1 were (and are) a tight-knit group.

He leaves the food on the table, and tracks down the photos of them. There are a few, carefully posed shots, everyone smiling. Daniel Jackson is in a few (and he has to remember that Daniel is dead, here). But they aren't the kind of photos he's looking for, and so he hunts through the house, trying to decide where he'd put them.

It takes him an hour, and he finds them in the back of the junk drawer, a small album.

The pictures are candid shots, mostly of SG-1, but some are Fraiser and a kid he doesn't know, and Hammond. And there's one picture that catches his interest. O'Neill and Carter, laughing at something neither would probably remember anymore. An unguarded moment when they're half-looking at each other.

He catches his breath.

There's a picture (there was a picture) of he and Sara in similar circumstances. Charlie had just announced that he was over girls. And they'd laughed while his mother in law took pictures, amused by the cuteness.

A comparison would probably show small differences. More restraint on Sam Carter's part. More restraint on O'Neill's.

Sound distracts him and he realizes the doorbell has rung. Uncertain, he wanders out to the front door and finds SG-1 standing there. Sam Carter looks almost uncertain, but Jonas and Teal'c are perfectly calm. "Uh... Hi?"

"We -- I thought you might want some help. Cleaning." She stops.

"Cleaning."

"Well, yeah, Colonel," Jonas smiles cheerfully, "After all, I'm sure even the service they've been using couldn't keep this house spotless."

"Indeed."

"Um... Ok." He steps back, still somewhat uncertain what precisely is happening, but going with the odd flow.

"Thank you." And she flashes him something approaching a grin.

He's still clutching the photo album in one hand, without drawing attention to it, he closes it. "I accidentally ordered way too much food."

"Oh, good, I'm starving."

Three of the adults in front of him know this house, probably better than he ever will. The fourth looks like he isn't sure he's supposed to be there. And yet they are waiting for him to show them the way. A slight smile starts on his lips, "Well. Come on, then."

And Jonas bounces into the kitchen.

-f-

Final notes: There are two more stories in this arc, I think. 


End file.
